Rarely Strange
by MaraudersAffair
Summary: James was always one for detail.


James was always one for detail. He understood the intricate makings of the world; he lived with them, developed them and soon realized that he could manipulate them into tools and situations that were beneficial. This was like anything else in his life - his friends, family - the way he gelled his hair every morning and allowed each strain to fall into place, no comb - only fingers, slick and right.

He understood people, could predict their reactions and foresee their emotions. It was a talent he prized the most - fitting for someone like himself, someone who had friends like his. Outsiders never understood that - they always thought Sirius was the leader, beckoning James into submission with the rest of the gang. They never realized that James was the one who planned all of their stunts and tricks, and anything else they were known for. He was the number one man and no one knew it.

Sometimes it would get a bit annoying, with all the pretty birds flapping their tails to Sirius, their smiles bright but crooked with their British mentality. Though, James supposed that was his brilliance. Because even if those birds came for Sirius, they stayed for James. They knew who was the better of the two, who was the Quidditch star and all-around man of adventure.

_Man of adventure_. James had to occasionally laugh at himself - no one else did, well except for Sirius, the infuriating prick. Yeah, he could admit that jealousy was one of the many feelings he had for Sirius. But don't think there was anything queer about their relationship - No, Sirius liked birds, and a lot of them. He liked their short skirts and round behinds, their floppy breasts pressing into their tight school vests, especially the poor ones like Lily who couldn't afford new clothes, even if she had grown two shirt sizes.

But Lily was his, not Sirius' and she was one of the very few things that he didn't share with the insufferable bastard. James could count on one hand everything he didn't completely associate with Sirius - his broom, Lily, Bubbles (his secret stuff animal bear with a ripped ear) and Peter.

All of these he held close to his heart. They were all his, and he would never share them with anyone else. He appreciated what they brought to his life, what excitement, acceptance and general comfort they gave him. He knew how to work each one, how to get a rise from them, how to make them want him.

Especially Peter. He liked being close to him, liked to feel the boy's warm body pressing into his shoulder, liked to smell his sweet breath from the chocolate they were both eating. You never felt that with skinny bastards, the warmth and comfort and all around acceptance. He liked watching Peter fumble about, unable to mask his insecurities and shortcomings, his fat belly straining against his shirt. He liked knowing he was better than Peter -- that he didn't have to compete with him.

No one else would ever want Peter and he loved knowing it. He loved that the boy was his and only his, devoted and loyal to the end. Kissing Peter was good, too. His fat lips and big hands, awkward but satisfying. He liked feeling Peter on top of him, crushing the breath out of him and forcing James to only concentrate on him.

Because God knew he never paid attention to Peter when Sirius or Remus were around.

.:.

"Oi, watch the glasses!" James yelled, as Sirius wrapped a long arm around his neck and pulled him to the bed. He landed face down into the blankets, huffing his breath and trying to salvage his glasses, which were digging into his cheeks and nose.

Sirius laughed manically, punching him in the arm, his hands holding James down and steadying his thrashing.

"Getoffme, you wanker!" James' voice was muffled by the bed, his face reddening and his chest heaving up and down. He tried to buck upward, but his shoes slipped off the bed, forcing him even further into the bed.

"You still think you are better than me?" Sirius asked, breathless.

James responded with something indistinct, even to his own ears.

"I think you've made your point," Remus said calmly, sitting up from his own bed and smirking at them.

"Yeah!" James said, trying to push himself up.

Sirius rolled his eyes and released him, jumping back before James could retaliate.

"I said," James explained, finally sitting up as he rubbed his back, "That I was better than you at Quidditch."

Sirius held his chest in mock pain, falling back into his bed. "That hurts, Prongs," he said in a high and girly voice.

James couldn't help but grin. He jumped onto his bed and flexed his arms, rolling the sleeve of his shirt up. "And I'm much, much stronger than you." James winked and smiled cheekily at Sirius.

"Oh, go suck your Mum's teat," Sirius answered, throwing a pillow at James' face and knocking his glasses askew.

"Hey, I said watch the glasses!"

.:.

"I'm bored."

James lay on the floor of the dormitory, staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he were somewhere else. Empty candy wrappers were scattered around him -- evidence from the fun they had the night before. But now everyone was off doing something or other, leaving only James and Peter.

It couldn't get any worst.

Peter looked down at James, thinking. "Well," he said after a moment, "We could play some chess or listen to my wireless or -- "

"I don't want to do none of those things," James interrupted, his voice now high. "I'm bored and there's nothing to do!"

"There's loads to do!" Peter protested, climbing down to sit next to James. "We can go outside."

James stared up at Peter, his mouth curling into a sly grin. "Why don't you come closer, Wormtail."

Hesitating, Peter seemed to weigh his options.

"Oh, come on. Don't be shy, it's only me."

Nodding, Peter slid closer to James, his eyes focusing on the frayed carpet instead of meeting the other boy's gaze. His fingers picked at the crusted caramel from one of the candy wrappers and James put his hand on Peter's shoulder, smoothing down the wrinkles of his shirt with his palm.

"What's wrong?" James asked, his voice unconcerned.

Peter shook his head, the skin on his cheeks flushing. He began to say something, but stopped -- his mouth slightly open.

Frustrated, James gently grabbed his face, forcing Peter to look into his eyes. He gulped.

"Tell me, please." James' voice was like velvet, soft and calming. He stared deep into Peter's eyes, waiting for the boy to speak.

"I - I -," Peter stuttered, trying to form his words correctly. "Are you going to marry Evans?"

James was taken back, dropping his hand from Peter's face.

"Why do you ask that?"

Peter fidgeted, knowing he had done wrong. He stared down at his sausage-like hands, his mouth forming words unspoken.

"Because," he said after a moment, "I think it w-would be great if you did." His voice trembled as if he was about to cry, but James could see no tears.

James grinned and pulled Peter's face to his, kissing him fully on the lips. He leaned back and watched Peter's expression, the boy's eyes flickering closed and a deep breath escaping his mouth. James kissed him again, and again, pulling Peter on top of him, reveling in the feeling of his hard body crushing the air from James' chest.

As Peter kissed him back, James could imagine Lily kissing him, just sweeter and less demanding.

.:.

"Does it feel weird to be married?" Peter asked, standing next to James in the kitchen.

James shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Not really." He brought the bottle of liquor to his lips, draining the bit that was left. Looking at Peter, his eyes were unfocused and his grin lopsided. With an unsteady hand, he beckoned Peter toward him, his smile growing wider.

Peter shook his head, stepping back as if James could hurt him. "No, not anymore. Not when you are married."

Breathing heavily, James stumbled forward, grabbing at Peter's shirt to balance himself. "Why not?"

"Because," Peter said, yanking away from James' hold, "It wouldn't be right to Lily."

James sighed and nodded, holding onto the brass handle of a cabinet now. "You are right." He slurred his words.

Peter stepped away and turned his back to James.

.:.

"Are you ready?" Snape asked, looking at Peter with slight interest.

Peter shook his head swiftly, raising his left arm to the sky and walking through a seemingly concrete door.

"What news do you have?"

He looked at Snape and said, his voice strong, "The best."


End file.
